I Think I'm Drooling
by Meng Xiaojie
Summary: Final edit complete. One-shot AU (manga volume six). Niwa Kosuke is dying, but he has time for some funny last-minute reminiscing. Features a wicked Emiko, a sweet Daisuke, and a wrong, WRONG Dark prank.


**I Think I'm Drooling**

_Written by Meng Xiaojie_

_Disclaimer: D.N.Angel and all related properties are copyrights of Yukiru Sugisaki, et al. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No infringement is intended._

**Warnings: Rated PG-13 for a bit of language, very naughty humor, bittersweet sap, angst, and CHARACTER DEATH.**

**Manga-based AU.** **Stage 2, Part 10 (manga volume 6). Kosuke's POV.**

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Oh, no. I think I'm drooling again.

Emiko says I drool in my sleep. Says it every other morning, in fact. She shakes her head and clucks her tongue, dabbing oh-so-delicately at my lips with the bed sheet. "Kosuke, sweetie," she tells me solemnly, "I thought only old men and Saint Bernards drooled in their sleep. Do I have to get you a sponge muzzle?" And she dissolves into a fit of giggles, which can only be cured by pinning her down and tickling her till she can't breathe.

My silly chickadee _would_ find that amusing. She says I'm funny because I'm cute, whatever that means. God, I love that woman. Even though she baffles me a lot of the time.

I'm not sure whether I really do drool or not, but right now there's definitely something dribbling from the corner of my mouth, down across my cheek and into my ear. It's warm, and kind of…glueish.

Glueish. Daisuke's word, not mine. That child comes up with the oddest sayings.

I remember a day about a month back, when I walked into the kitchen and found him swapping out the light bulb in the ceiling fixture. He was standing on one of the dining room chairs, perfectly balanced as only a trained thief could be, one lanky arm stretched up as far as possible to hold the decorative fixture cover in place. His free hand was patting about his hips and rear, searching his jeans pockets for something that was obviously not there.

He saw me watching him, and gave me a Pleading Look he likely learned from his mother. "Dad, a little help here?"

"What do you need?" I asked him, blinking obliviously. I knew exactly what he was looking for, of course, but I do so love teasing my Daisuke. He's easy to bait, just like Emiko, and neither of them holds it against me. For long, anyways.

For whatever reason, Daisuke couldn't come up with the name of the item he wanted. "The, um… you know, the twisty thing… uh…" He shifted his cramping arm, huffed in annoyance, and finally blurted out, "The stupid twisty thingamabobber! I need it to put the cover back on!"

The stupid twisty thingamabobber. That was a new one. I blinked again, very slowly and deliberately, squashing a grin behind my hand. With as much sagely wisdom as I could muster, I suggested, "Do you mean the screwdriver?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That, too. Will you get it out of the drawer by the fridge for me? My arm's dying, and I have to work tonight!"

I chuckled and fetched the screwdriver for him. He thanked me, being the polite boy that he is, but he gave me a glare that told me he was wise to my schemes.

Drat. It's so much more fun when they don't realize I'm joking.

When he'd finished his task, Daisuke stepped down and dragged the chair back into the dining room, shaking out his abused arm. "We need a shorter kitchen," he groused, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Or a taller kid," I called through the doorway.

That earned me a snort, and I turned to see him heading toward the drawer, twirling the stupid twisty thingamabobber in one hand. "Yeah, well, good luck with _that,_" he scoffed. Then flushed bright scarlet, and muttered, "Shut up, Dark."

I almost spit out my tea. I don't know what Dark said, but he seems to like pushing his Tamer's buttons. Daisuke is hilarious when he's embarrassed.

I love that kid. I'll make sure I tell him that, as soon as I get up.

I wish Emiko would stop shaking me, though. I'll wake up when I'm good and ready.

Maybe if I ignore her long enough, she'll resort to one of her more…inspired methods. Always a nice possibility. No one would suspect it, but my wicked little chickadee has an evil streak a mile wide, and her mischief tends to be _creative_. She's resourceful, my Emiko, and merciless to boot.

In fact, I would suggest that she write a book about her more imaginative stunts, but I'm afraid she would take me seriously, and I would die of humiliation if she actually took it upon herself to publish any such literature. Especially since certain other members of the family have to eat, sit, and generally _exist_ on certain household surfaces, and I doubt they would be comfortable knowing how those surfaces have been abused in the past.

Maybe someday, when Daisuke is much older and married to his own wicked chickadee, I'll tell him about the incident in the kitchen that led to his conception. I wonder if he used _that_ chair to change the light bulb…?

Oh, well. I know those neckties are long gone, at least. Emiko's knots turned out to be un-knottable, and she ended up having to cut me loose.

Yep, my Emiko is an inventive and fiendish woman. I don't know what I'd do without her.

…God, it's _cold_ in here. I can't even tell if my legs are still attached to my body. Seems my fiendish woman has decided to steal the covers. Does she think she's going freeze me awake? She knows better than that. Nothing short of an apocalypse (or a clever set of lips—bless my wife's deviant little heart!) can pop my eyes open when I want them shut.

In fact, as I recall, the last person who tried to force me awake was Dark. Yes, that's right. The Niwa family curse himself.

It was only about a month after I got back from Paris. Dark got in late one night from a typical snatch-and-run, and as usual, he wanted to top the evening off with a snack of banana pocky and peanut butter. I don't know where he got his taste for the stuff. According to Emiko's father, Dark has been craving bananas for at least the past three incarnations, if not longer.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I'll have to ask Daisuke when I get up. Why _does_ Dark like bananas so much?

Anyway, banana pocky just happens to be my favorite, too. So I hid the last box, intending to save it for a rainy day.

Dark, of course, was not at all happy to find his pocky stash missing that night. He marched into the living room, where I lay flopped on the couch, seemingly dead to the world. I'd been dozing off and on all evening, waiting for him to get home, but I was very much awake when he poked my shoulder and hissed my name. "Kosuke. Wake up."

On a whim, I decided to ignore him. I sighed very softly, as though in a dream, but I kept my eyes shut.

I wouldn't find out until later that messing with a hungry kaitou is a very, very bad idea.

"Damn it, Kosuke, I know you're awake," Dark whispered loudly, shaking my arm insistently. "And I know you hid my pocky. Where is it?"

I kept ignoring him. Eventually, after much cajoling, shaking, poking, and an attempt to drag me off the couch, Dark gave up. "Fine," he muttered. "But you are going to seriously regret this, Niwa Banana-Pocky-Thief Kosuke-san. I promise."

I grinned inwardly, completely unconcerned.

Big mistake.

Exactly four nights after that, Daisuke walked in on the wife and I in the middle of…ah, tomfoolery. Of the rather intense variety.

Understand, that had never happened before. I'd left for Africa when Daisuke was just starting to walk, and since I'd gotten back, Emiko and I had tried to be discreet.

I froze. Emiko froze. Daisuke let out a strangled little croak, flushed beet-red, spluttered an apology and slammed the door shut.

I have to say, I considered committing hara-kiri right then and there. I wondered if Emiko would agree to be my second, or if I would have to ask Daiki to lop my head off after I gutted myself.

Being far less flustered than I was—which is a rare occasion, to say the least—Emiko decided that she needed to talk to our son, to assure him that he hadn't done anything wrong, and to perhaps give him the prelude to The Talk. "The _real_ Talk is your job," she reminded me with a sunny smile. "You're the dad."

At that point, I was too scattered to inform her that our normal and healthy fourteen-year-old boy was probably already aware of The Talk's contents—and if he hadn't known before, he certainly did now!

At any rate, though, Emiko's conversation with Daisuke didn't turn out anything like she'd planned. She tried to approach the subject delicately, of course, but he just stared at her like she'd grown a second head and gone bowling with it. (That's another of Daisuke's sayings, by the way. I love that kid!) He seemed completely and genuinely baffled as to what she was talking about.

"I don't know what you think I did," Daisuke finally told her, frowning in confusion, "but I wish Dark would shut up. He's laughing so much it's giving me a headache, and I don't even know what's so funny!"

Kaitou Dark. _Laughing._ Clever girl that she is, Emiko immediately pounced on the remark. And, after a short blush-tinged Q&A session, the truth finally emerged.

That damned thief had sent Wiz. In Daisuke's form. To our room. Knowing full well what Emiko and I were up to.

I haven't been able to look that rabbit in the eye since.

And Dark gets all the banana pocky he wants.

…You know, I don't remember the bed being this solid. It's bumpy and poky, too, like the springs are all popping through the mattress. Reminds me of trying to sleep on stairs. I had to do that a couple of nights in Germany, after I got my wallet stolen.

Blast. I'm probably going to need a chiropractor. My neck's all twisted around, and my back feels like it's been stomped on by the entire Falkenberg soccer team. And all of their fans. All wearing cleats.

And I'm still cold. Really cold.

It was cold like this when I asked Daiki for permission to marry Emiko.

I was such a nervous idiot that night. I knew for a fact that Emiko had already spoken to her father about it, and I was pretty sure that Daiki liked me well enough, but none of that helped much. I didn't think I would ever stop shaking, and it had nothing to do with the fact that we were standing out in the driveway, staring up at a cloudless winter sky, with a chilly December breeze trying to bite our noses off.

My father-in-law still tells people about that night, even now. Apparently, the fact that I tried to fake hypothermia in order to cover my tongue-tied anxiety was outrageously funny.

When she heard about it, Emiko told me I was the cutest man on the planet, and that she would probably have said "yes" even if I hadn't agreed to give her a son. She was lying, of course, but that was just about the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me.

…All right. This is getting ridiculous. The blankets are gone, the mattress is breaking my back, and I'm still drooling.

Time to wake up. My vicious woman has some explaining to do.

…

It's dark. My eyes are wet. How in the world did I manage to drool into my eyelashes?

…

Oh, now I see the knees. Is that Emiko's skirt? It looks like she dropped ketchup on it. She'd better get it in the wash soon; that's one of her favorite skirts, and red stains are such a pain to wash out.

"…_Kosuke, baby, can you hear me?"_

Emiko? Of course I can hear you. Get off me, silly bird, I'm trying to sit up. Isn't that what you wanted?

"_Oh no, don't move, sweetie, don't try to move!"_

"_Kosuke, son, stay still…"_

…exactly what is Daiki doing in our bedroom?

Oh God, did he walk in on us, too?

"_Papa, we have to get to a hospital! Where's Dark?"_

"_Still out there…my God, Emiko, he's really going to kill the White Wings…I've never seen him like this…"_

My son has another excellent little saying, and it goes like this: "Officially confused now. Please limit input to bite-sized pieces."

"_I don't understand, Papa…why would White Wings go after us?…we're not even a threat to him…"_

Not bite-sized enough, Emiko my sweet. I'm not awake enough to make any sense of that. I couldn't even hear half of it over the thunder. Where's the lightning? Is it raining?

"…_he wasn't after all of us, Emiko…"_

Then again, maybe this is all just some strange dream I'm having because the room is so cold. Emiko told me that Daisuke once fell asleep under the Christmas tree, and that when she noticed him shivering and woke him up, he muttered something about professional toboggan racing.

"…_he was aiming at you."_

I don't see any toboggans. Can't see much of anything, really. Did somebody turn the hall light off?

"_If Kosuke hadn't gotten to you first…"_

Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I'm too tired to figure out what my dream-land wife and father-in-law are talking about.

I'm going back to sleep.

"…_oh, Kosuke…oh no, love…stay with me…"_

Is that Emiko's hand? Is she already wiping the drool off?

Silly chickadee. You should wait till morning.

I'm not even awake enough to hear you laughing at me…

"_Kosuke?_ _Kosuke!"_

…

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**Thank you for reading.**

**In case you're confused, this is set on that cliffside right after Dark tried to tell Riku the truth (see manga volume six). Krad apparently aimed one of his blasts at Emiko, and of course, Kosuke wouldn't let his chickadee take the hit.**

**Just so you know, I would cry buckets if Sugisaki-san ever actually killed Kosuke. **

**For some reason, though, my "spotlight-the-underappreciated-character" fics usually end up as death fics. Go fig.**

**Show your support for Kosuke-san, and review or email!**


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